


The Midgard Kind of Crazy

by Filigree



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Nothing explicit, POV Loki, Pure silly fluff, because Comic Con still makes me giggle, gods get worshiped, m/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2013-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-23 17:33:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/929219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filigree/pseuds/Filigree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mortals worship gods. That hasn't changed. How it's done in the digital age - that's another matter entirely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Midgard Kind of Crazy

**Author's Note:**

> Because I owed everyone some silly, fluffy crack after 'Empty House'.

“I know why you keep coming back to Earth, ” Iron Man said in a knowing sing-song, as he deflected Loki’s spear with a repulsor blast.

“The disappointed look on Thor’s face?” Loki ventured, dodging the blue-white lance of energy shooting by his face.

The red-and-gold-armored warrior snickered, his electronic voice conveying genuine glee. “Nope, that kicked-puppy look is way too easy. I love the big guy, but he’s a little too dense for his own good sometimes.” Anthony Stark's metal boots suddenly lifted him a foot off the ground, on twin columns of blue fire. He spun aside, as Loki’s spear flicked through where he’d been a moment before. Loki glared at him.

And why had no one in Asgard ever listened to Loki, when he’d said just that? Galling. Even Thor’s Midgardian friends knew it.

At the end of a long afternoon battle, Doom’s latest pathetic robots were in pieces around the brilliantly-lit plaza called Times Square. Doom himself had fled back to Latveria like the coward he was. Hardly worth the effort of being courted as an ally. Only Loki and Iron Man remained circling each other on the pavement. And for some reason, the rest of the Avengers held back Shield’s black-armored soldiers a good hundred feet away.

Now Anthony Stark said, “Y’know, there are so many better ways to disappoint Thor.”

Loki should have been gone long before this moment. But each time he considered teleporting away, he felt another bewitching alien tingle along his spine and nerves. Something he’d sensed, nowhere else but Midgard. Most strongly in this brash city, while battling the Avengers. Long ago on Midgard, when the Asgardians had encountered mostly farmers in rude wooden huts, he’d experienced the vague and fearful worship of the few mortals who whispered prayers to him alone. Nothing like this - this rush of sparkling energy and joy, sweeter than any mead of Asgard.

Loki laughed in spite of himself. “Thor has already been disappointed on that account many times. He never approved of my dalliances.”

“Oh? Do share, Bambi.”

The next repulsor beam lashed close over Loki’s helmeted head. He ducked, then gritted his teeth. Did the daft mortal truly think Loki penned and grounded?

“Iron Man, wrap it up! We can lock Fury down only so long,” shouted the stern Captain, in a tone less worried than aggrieved.

Loki wondered at that, scanning for but not sensing any obvious traps.

“Yeah, some of us have laundry night,” jibed the Hawk, from his crouching perch on a nearby garishly-illuminated sign. Loki could not fathom why Barton hadn’t shot directly at him, even during the main battle. Come to think of it, most of the Avengers’ strikes had been aimed at Doom.

“Unbunch your purple Spanx, Legolas,” said Iron Man. “I’m still assessing the situation, here.”

“Am I given the honor of a holmgang, a private duel?” Loki challenged sweetly. “You are hardly the best challenger for such a contest. Bring out Thor or the Captain, Stark, and rest your tired little body.”

“Just warming up, Reindeer Games. We could take this somewhere more private, if you like,” said Stark.

“Tsk. And miss your public humiliation? I live for it, worm.”

For some reason that made Stark pause, and Loki sensed Iron Man’s glowing blue eye-slits regarding him more closely. “No, you don’t. You have no idea why you come back here. But I do. Tell me, Rock of Ages, do you really want to rule this planet?”

“It cries out for it,” Loki snarled.

“That’s not what you’re hearing, babe.” Then, the ultimate insult. Iron Man stopped dodging and stood still, his mask segmenting back around his golden-skinned face and messy brown hair. Honey-brown eyes alight with wicked amusement, lush mouth quirked in a grin, Anthony Stark said, “Asgard really fucked you up, didn’t it? You already have Earth’s attention. In the only way that matters. You just don’t know it yet. If you keep being your sweet little tyrannical self, you might subdue Earth in a hundred years. But by then you’ll have squandered every bit of capital getting there. Such a shame, really.”

Loki was a god of lies and mischief. He could spot falsehood on most mortal faces. Anthony Stark was not lying about anything.

“See,” continued Stark, taking a step closer to Loki. “I’m a showman. Been one since the minute I could focus on a camera. Trust me, Delicious. Capital is the one thing you’ve got in spades right now.”

“Midgard can be bought with gold? I knew you were all craven –”

“Emotional capital. _Intangible_ assets,” drawled Stark, giving Loki’s tall body another appraising once-over. “I can tell you one secret that really might win you half of Earth, babe. No betrayal, no shooting, no prison, no muzzles. Scout’s honor, not that I was ever a Boy Scout. You just gotta let me get close enough to show you.”

“STARK!” Loki flinched, swinging his spear toward a black-coated figure beyond the empty pavement. That was Fury of Shield, thundering into a bullhorn. The one-eyed warrior stood beside what Loki assumed was some kind of rocket launcher. “GET THE FUCK ON WITH THIS, OR I WILL SHOOT BOTH OF YOU.”

“Oh, Daddy’s pissed ‘cause he knows I’m right. He won’t shoot. Ignore him, babe,” Stark babbled as he eased closer. Three feet away.

Loki grounded the spear haft on the pavement. He still sensed no threat from the mortal. Sexual interest, nothing new there. But Stark’s odd approval toward Loki, even a nearly familiar low-burning anger at Thor – what could possibly be going on in that brilliant morass of a mind? “Why tell me? And why only half of Midgard?”

“Because you don’t need to kill people to win the game, Loki. And the other half’s mine. You want that, we’ll negotiate.”

While Loki only stared at the mortal’s cheerfully suicidal aplomb, Stark slunk the rest of the way up to him. The metal suit almost negated the seven-inch-difference in their heights. Stark’s right hand clenched and relaxed. Loki heard a faint whine as the gauntlet parted and shifted its separate plates down Stark’s forearm, disarming even the terrible blue star of his palm repulsor. Slow and careful, Stark rested his bare hand on Loki’s left shoulder. Loki felt the tentative weight even through his own black leathers and bronze armor.

“Wait for it,” Stark said, still grinning.

“Have you lost all – _oh, Norns._ ” Unable to silence himself, Loki moaned aloud at the storm of sensation cascading through him. It was love, lust, joy, no little envy, and even more fierce approval. Loki felt his knees weaken, and he clutched more tightly to his spear-haft. “What sorcery have you wrought, Anthony Stark?”

“Not me, babe. _Them._ ” He waved a hand toward the buildings surrounding the Square. “Heart of New York. One of ‘em, anyway. You keep coming back here, and it’s a little stronger each time, yes? That’s because there’s a few thousand idiots out there who’ve gotten used to you showing up. So they show up. With cameras. And through them, right now, we’re probably being watched by several million people online around the world. What you feel? That’s them, Loki.”

“For me?” Loki’s whisper was harsh, disbelieving. “But I am a monster. They should feel thus about Thor -”

“Easy, Smurfette. Some do. But the ones who like me are predisposed to like you, too. We’re Midgard’s own kind of crazy. It gets better. I still haven’t told you the secret.”

“Tell me.”

“Simple.” Anthony Stark leaned forward. “Kiss me.” Without waiting for Loki to comply or fight, the mortal brushed his lips almost chastely across Loki’s.

This time the transmitted power was unlike anything Loki had ever known. He felt winged in light, crowned in glory, basking in hot fierce joy. His muscles were unstrung, and the taut tendons in his legs and arms slackened in sheer relief. As if the reflected energy was enough to keep him upright and balanced, on this knife’s edge with Anthony Stark.

It wasn’t.

Loki heard the dull clang of his spear hitting the pavement before he properly knew he’d dropped it. A dizzying view of glaring electronic signs and glass-clad buildings whirled around him. He felt the jarring impact of his own armor-clad knees striking the pavement. It should have signaled his humiliation.

Anthony Stark’s bare hand slid up from Loki’s shoulder to his helm. Held Loki by one gold-bronze horn, turning the god’s head sideways against his waist. Until the helm melted at Loki’s instinctive wish, and Loki settled closer to hard, warm metal. Stark’s incongruously delicate fingers carded through Loki’s hair. Loki hooked his arm around the mortal’s leg, enjoying Stark’s startled gasp and the renewed pulse of joy around them.

I am kneeling to a mortal, part of Loki thought with dull surprise.

Against the waves of emotion thundering back at him, he found enough lucidity to hiss: “So. It’s you they worship, after all.”

Both of Stark’s hands stilled, protective and possessive, cradling the back of Loki’s skull. A repulsor blast on contact might kill even Loki. The god didn’t fight. It might be worth it, to linger a few seconds more in Stark’s reflected glory. No wonder he hadn’t been able to suborn the man!

“No, babe. Not just me,” said Stark, hiding neither his cynical irony nor his own wonder. “It’s _us_.”

 


End file.
